Author Note – So I've added a second chapter. It's the same scene from the first chapter so you will recognise some parts but it's from Elizabeth's perspective, I hope you enjoy. Also a special thanks to thesoundofasmile for encouragement when I wanted to scrap this.
Disclaimer – I don't own Criminal Minds or Emily or Elizabeth, but Charles is mine.
You Can Never Go Home Again – Elizabeth's POV
She was once told children are a reflection of their parents. During her pregnancy Elizabeth had many wishes for her daughter and becoming like her or her ex-husband wasn't one of them. She wanted Emily to be like her parents. They were hard working but never let work hinder their kind, warm hearted nature. Her mother died before Emily was born and her father more than made up for it by doting on Emily twice as much as Elizabeth expected. But she was her daughter's only constant role model after her father's death because her former husband couldn't get far enough away after the divorce, spending less and less time with Emily as the years passed by, so Elizabeth only blames herself for this situation.
She's prayed for and dreaded this outcome from the moment Aaron informed her of Emily's death months ago. It wasn't anything the Unit Chief said or did, he was professional and appropriately compassionate as he uttered the words which tore her heart apart. No, the thought came later that night when sleep was evasive and she worked her way through a bottle of scotch as she scoured the intel on the Irish arms dealer who murdered her daughter, she couldn't bring herself to think his name let alone say it. The morning after Elizabeth put the errant thought down to the alcohol and denial but secretly hoped there was a chance. She didn't start out as an Ambassador, she had other assignments with the State Department before her first overseas appointment, but nothing as intense as Emily's work but there had been incidents overseas when she had been afraid for her life; and she knew from others it was possible.
It still came as a shock when Senator Cramer called her a few days ago. Elizabeth remained steely silent as Cramer continued to talk about Emily and the events which happened after her supposed death. Her mind reeled as he detailed her return to America after hiding out in France for months. Finally, his temper ebbed and Elizabeth found her voice long enough to thank him tersely for the courtesy of calling personally before reminding him how he wasn't allowed to reveal details about ongoing investigations and hanging up on him.
For two days she stayed in the house prolonging her torture while she waited for Emily to contact her. For two days she alternated pacing and sitting as she fixated on the thought she buried with Emily's coffin. Her mind conjured up several scenarios, several explanations, none of them appeased her. She tried to think of a reason Emily would keep you in the dark over this, but in the end all of her pondering made her feel betrayed and angry. Those feelings festered deeper the longer Emily stayed away with no word.
Elizabeth knows minutes after Emily arrives at the front gates. 'Wave her through and contact head of security.' That's how her security staff were briefed. Her car was still travelling up the drive when Charles knocks once on Elizabeth's door and enters without waiting for a reply. Elizabeth looks up in surprise, about to remind him about propriety but the reprimand dies on her lips as she meets his poorly schooled gaze which does nothing to hide his sympathy. He doesn't say anything, just steps towards her and offers his hand to help her rise unsteadily from her vanity. She grips his hand tighter than she has in the last seven months.
"Elizabeth?" Charles questions, his voice low, warm, and full of concern. Her lip twitches automatically at the ease with which her name slips out; they've both taken to dropping formalities when they're alone. He was reluctant to use her first name and only relented because she insisted. He's been a trusted confident for years, not just as her head of security but as a friend who cared about her and her family. He's the only one she's allowed to see her grieve and vulnerable. She knew his first instinct was to stoically offer his condolences but he even his rigid sense of decorum couldn't mask his own devastation, after all he'd been with them since Emily was a teenager and Elizabeth knew how fond he was of her and Emily had, even in her rebellious phase, returned the affection and even going to Charles for advice when she decided on a career path.
"Is she here?"
"In the foyer," he replies.
"How is she?" Elizabeth asks as her eyes drift to the door.
Charles shakes his head and reluctantly admits "I haven't seen her yet."
Surprised he left her alone, Elizabeth raises her head to meets his eyes and sees the unexpressed disappointment which took residence earlier this week when she told him about the Senator's call. He was hurt that Emily wasn't able to confide in him at all over any of the situation. Of course he never said anything to Elizabeth but she knew.
She doesn't know why she's still standing in the middle of her bedroom when Emily is downstairs. There's a lot to say. Yes, she is angry with her but she wants, needs, to tell Emily how much she loves her and that she is proud so there is no doubt or regrets if this should ever happen again. But after seven months of silence, she's second guessing everything and terrified to hear what Emily has to say, scared to hear the truth about the state of her relationship with her daughter.
She shakes her head. "I don't think…" She trails off. "I thought I could…I want to…"
Charles moves in front of her, putting himself between her and the door. His head dips closer as he gently takes her other hand, running his thumb over the back of her fingers in an effort to warm them. "Take your time," he tells her.
She breathes deeply a couple of times. It does nothing to calm her erratic heartbeat. She only realises she is shaking because Charles's hands shake with hers.
Emily is waiting. Emily is here.
"Take the time you need," Charles repeats. "Emily will understand."
She raises her head. Emily will understand. Of course she will.
She slips hers hands from Charles' grip and steps back. Instantly Charles does the same and she sees his professional mask slide back into place. Elizabeth straighten but her knees feel like they are about to buckle beneath her. She takes a deep breath and nods once before turning on her heel, her knees giving way as soon she does. Charles reacts quickly to grab her elbows to stop her from collapsing to the floor.
"I'm fine," Elizabeth sighs as soon as she rights herself. "I'm fine," she reiterates when Charles doesn't release her. She shrugs out of his grasp, stepping back so there's space between them.
He stares at her, doesn't believe she's telling the truth. She's not. She can handle it though, or at least she'll act like she can. Charles sees through the façade and Elizabeth lets him because he's stood by her.
"I'll be down in a minute." She gestures for him to leave. He doesn't move. "Just check on Emily. For me. Please."
That spurs him into action as he straightens to his full height before turning on his heel and heads out of the room. The door clicks behind him and Elizabeth stares at it for a long moment before turning in a slow circle to calm herself, not really taking in any of her room. She finally stops as she looks out the window. Inhale, exhale. She can't hide forever. She counts to ten before following Charles out.
As soon as she turns onto the landing she sees Charles peering over the bannister of the landing to foyer below. In her mind's eye, she can see Emily staring defiantly back. Elizabeth pushes forward and past him and the two guards flanking him. She's long since gotten used to the extra guards being around since Charles upped security after learning about Emily's death without talking to her about it, but she doubted any objection she had would have made any difference.
Elizabeth pauses at the top of the stairs and looks down at Emily, surprised to find her focused on the carpet. Her hair is shorter than Elizabeth remembers. Straightened, she notes, almost painfully so. Her face contorts sadly and she half twirls as if she's about to bolt out of the house and never come back. The thought jolts Elizabeth into swaying forward and gripping the handrail tightly. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Charles move automatically but she juts her chin and he halts at the silent command. She can do this. Squaring her shoulders, she stares down at the foyer.
"Emily."
Caught off guard, Emily's eyes snap up and connect with hers. Her eyes soften immediately and she relaxes. The months away have worn on her nerves and she's still jumpy. Elizabeth's heart twists, wishing she could have done something, anything, to keep Emily safe. She could have helped her hide; she could have had her protected.
"Mom," Emily breathes out apologetically.
Instead of endearing her to Emily, it does the opposite. It reminds her of all the times she's had to smooth over political conflict with state leaders and opposing governments. It reminds Elizabeth of everything Emily has learnt from her. The measured, rehearsed tone, one she perfected years before Emily was born. Elizabeth passed it along. She learnt to be adaptable to any situation. She always had to project an infallible façade to those around her, no one really saw the real her, no one except for family. Being a woman in politics was as tough as being in law enforcement, always working harder and going above and beyond to prove she was just as worthy of her position as her male counterpart, especially when everyone found out she was a single parent and had little to no help from her estranged husband. It made it all the more satisfying when she proved her worth and their pitying smiles slid from their faces. Her ambition to provide a strong role model for her daughter backfired and ended up driving a wedge between them.
Elizabeth makes quick work of the stairs. She doesn't pause as she rounds the ornate post at the bottom of the stairs. She doesn't allow Emily time for a visual check let alone a verbal response. She continues down the hallway without breaking stride, calling out to Charles, the guards and any staff lingering nearby for any chance to overhear the meeting between mother and daughter, "No one is to interrupt us."
Elizabeth strides through the house. Emily follows without being asked. Elizabeth is relieved, she doesn't trust her voice at the moment. She pushes through her office door and holds it open for Emily to enter.
"Sit," Elizabeth orders, her voice trembling with anger. Emily does. Elizabeth knows she won't be able to sit still so she resorts to pacing her office. Her stomach is in knots.
"Mom."
Elizabeth reacts without meaning to. Emily sinks back into the chair. She isn't used to Emily giving up and the lack of argument tips Elizabeth over the edge.
"You let them tell me you were dead." Two steps forward, turn. "I had to hear about it from Aaron, then he told me to stay away from it. All of it."
He bared the brunt of her anger that night and he accepted it much like Emily was taking it now, saying very little apart from apologising and stating only Emily died from injuries sustained in the pursuit of a fugitive. He refused to tell her who or the how and she berated him for it before ordering him out of her home. This home. She still doesn't know all of the details of what happened to Emily after, just that she was relocated to Paris. She isn't sure she wants to know. That doesn't matter right now. All that matters is that Emily is in front of her. She pauses at the window and sighs.
"The last seven months have been…" hell. But it's nothing compared to having to what she's feeling now. "Then you turn up here when you've been back for nearly a week."
Emily doesn't respond. Elizabeth doesn't know if it's from lack of explanation or if Emily realises there's nothing she can say which will rectify this.
"In all of this did you ever think about how I would feel hearing you're alive from a colleague? A Senator, no less?"
Elizabeth can only imagine what her colleagues must think, the rumour mill must be doing over time. None of that matters. She just doesn't want any more surprises. Thankfully, it spurs Emily to finally speak up.
"I knew what Doyle was capable of, I didn't want him to-"
"I knew what he was capable of Emily," Elizabeth counters, whirling to face her. "You think I was going to let anyone stand in the way of finding out who murdered my daughter?"
Of course Elizabeth found out about him, it was hard not to. The slaying of an FBI agent made good news and Elizabeth had stared at his face too many times in the paper. "They were readily offering information, but I heeded Aaron's warning. Charles discretely gathered the information from trusted sources."
Emily sags in relief then her eyes cloud over with worry. "He would have killed you."
Elizabeth laughs bitterly. "I've known men like him Emily," she tells her, barely containing the growl in her throat.
"He wasn't like those who picketed the embassies, mother, if he ever thought you were planning any sort of reprisal…" Emily stresses with a shake of her head.
"I wasn't talking about them; I was talking about…" Elizabeth trailed off. "I took a lot of assignments before you were born, dangerous ones, so trust me when I say I have known men like him," Elizabeth seethes, staring Emily down till she bobs her head once. "Besides his focus wasn't on me, he was focused on his child, the one you died to protect, the one who knew you were alive."
She watches Emily as her eyes close, trying to control her emotions, just like Elizabeth usually does. "But you knew that," Elizabeth adds quietly. Emily opens her eyes and solemnly nods once. She cares for the child, Elizabeth realises. She never put much thought into it before. Doyle had been a parent, his life taken while trying to protect his child. Something every parent understands. She's surprised by her own thoughts, she never thought she would have anything in common with the man who 'killed' her daughter. Elizabeth's eyes soften and she settles against the window, crossing her arms across her chest. "Is the boy safe?"
Again Emily nods. Elizabeth feels for him and hopes he's strong enough to cope with the fallout from his father's death. She wonders if Emily will still be a part of his life now this is all over.
Elizabeth exhales slowly, resignedly. She knew there was a lot she never knew about Emily's life, but this is too much for her to cope with. "I can understand why you had to go into hiding but I don't think I can forgive you for not telling me or allowing me to be told you were alive."
"I was as good as dead anyway, they may never have found Doyle," Emily justifies. "They, I, needed him to trust the lie, for that others' had to as well."
Others. She wasn't the only one. She wants to ask but doubts Emily will elaborate.
"Oh, I believed it," Elizabeth promises. "I wasn't allowed to visit your grave, I was followed every minute of the day, there was no privacy to grieve," she breathes out shakily, blinks away the tears forming in her eyes. "And then you waltz in here as if nothing has happened."
"I thought it would be better than phoning, guess I was wrong," Emily says. "I never should have put you through that."
Elizabeth sighs, long and laboured. At least her Emily is starting to resurface, it gives her some peace. But it's not enough, not yet. "Don't get me wrong, I am happy you're alive, that you're here, I am, but it is going to take time to get used to especially when I haven't been able to reconcile your death."
"Mom," Emily says rising from her seat, her arms spreading to engulf her mother.
Elizabeth holds up a hand to stop her. She can't. She'll break down if she does. She needs to be strong.
"It would be better if you go," Elizabeth says, meeting Emily's eyes. It's nearly impossible to maintain eye contact let alone say the words. Emily has hurt her. Whether it was her intention or not, it doesn't matter.
"Mom," she tries again.
"Emily, please, this isn't like staying out past curfew or embarrassing me at a dinner for my associates, I need time. Please leave."
Elizabeth can't quite believe she's doing this. Emily's visit curbed her anxiety, her need to know her child was safe, but now it reminds her of her own failings. And like most people, Elizabeth can't face them for long.
Emily stares at for a long beat, silently begging her to reconsider but Elizabeth is unrelenting. The rejection visibly affects Emily as she steps backwards towards the door, softly apologising once more. "I'm sorry Mom."
"I know," Elizabeth assures her, she is too. She wishes she could move past this, hopes she can with time. "You're my daughter and I love you, I just don't know how to forgive you." Or me.
Author note – what did you think of Elizabeth's perspective? Did it make sense? Any other thoughts? Let me know in a review or send me PM if you're uncomfortable leaving a public comment.